Essay prompt: Each of Thach Lam's stories is a lyrical poem. Analyze 'Two Children' to clarify this assertion.
Sample essay demonstrating the romantic essence in the story 'Two Children.'
Student's Work
On the Vietnamese literary forum before the August Revolution, Thach Lam wasn't positioned as the top figure but was highly esteemed and recognized. Although Thach Lam wrote long stories, his forte lay in short stories, where his artistic talent and brilliance were fully revealed. Nguyen Tuan commented: 'When talking about Thach Lam, people often remember his short stories more than his longer ones.' Thach Lam's contribution extends beyond art to the nurturing of spirits. It helps us purify our souls. For him, each story is like a lyrical poem containing numerous sincere emotions and sensitivity towards the nuances of both the surroundings and human hearts (Literature Grade 11 - Basic Program, page 94). The short story 'Two Children' is 'a lyrical poem' in this sense.
Although a member of the Self-Reliant Literary Group, Thach Lam's aesthetic thoughts take a distinctive direction. He constructs a different world of characters in his works. Quietly, he directs his pen towards the impoverished with a sincere heart. Thach Lam's world of characters is small and pitiful. They often hide in the darkness of a confined space, typically in the decrepit district streets, or the impoverished suburbs of Hanoi. Thach Lam's characters usually seek refuge within their families, between four walls, or in a garden, meaning distancing themselves from a life full of uncertainties outside. Perhaps it is as if individuals only truly understand themselves and the life around them in such moments. They seem to withdraw from reality, feeling sorry for themselves and compassionate towards others, overwhelmed with a sense of melancholy when reminiscing about the past, afraid to look towards the future, carrying a vague feeling when thinking about tomorrow. Thach Lam's sensibility can be summarized in three words: 'a sense of compassion.' These small, unfortunate individuals are always enveloped in an atmosphere of affection that radiates gently from the author's heart.
Thach Lam's stories lack a distinct plot but are imbued with a lyrical tone and language full of romantic elements. Each short story has a structure and tone like a lyrical poem, evoking compassion for the fate of these unfortunate small beings. A simple yet refined writing style! A melancholic melody blankets most of the stories from beginning to end. Soft, flexible language, rich in imagery and musicality. That is the poetic essence in Thach Lam's short stories, where 'there is something gentle here' that captivates us. 'Two Children' is characteristic of Thach Lam's literary soul. It is a lyrical poem full of melancholy.
Thach Lam's short story 'Two Children' unfolds the daily life of two siblings taking care of a makeshift stall near a desolate train station. Nightly, shadows of ordinary people pass by the stall. These shadows, like flickering flames in the dim surroundings, traverse the district streets. Amidst the faint ambiance, a sudden noise and bright streams mark the passage of a train every day. The siblings always await this nightly journey before closing the shop. Nguyen Tuan summarized the story this way. Indeed, it seems to lack a plot, without twists. It transpires over a short period, from around sunset, when the 'west is as red as a burning fire,' to nine o'clock, 'the night entwined in darkness.' It unfolds within the 'souls of the poet siblings, Liên and An, on an ordinary evening seemingly 'insipid,' without anything noteworthy.' Yet, rising above that ordinary day, Thach Lam, through his unique artistic path, creates a distinct artistic world, a unique time, space, characters, and language that bring forth a gentle, melancholic ambiance, rich with the flavors of the countryside, shadows illuminated by a tender, humane, compassionate, and genuinely poignant love, exuding a subtle poetry from the homeland. Although lacking a specific plot, the story encapsulates various life scenes, emotions, profound and delicate sentiments.
Thach Lam vividly portrays the appearance of the district, a melancholic scene as the evening gradually fades into the night. Each day, the morning's hustle dissipates in the sunlight, but by evening, the true face of the district emerges with all its modest, decayed, and desolate aspects. 'Evening has come' as a sigh, startled, like a whispered breath. Thus, another evening arrives, and evenings are sorrowful. The impression of the evening is quite profound. Thach Lam chose a dying market to represent the entirety of the district. The market is a manifestation of the village's vitality and its pure folk customs. Those in the countryside often look forward to the lively, bustling market days. Thach Lam chose market day to depict the district's desolation. Although he doesn't describe the market day, he portrays the leftover remnants, representing the dwindling or overflowing vitality of the district. Describing the last few people exchanging goods before disappearing into the dark alleys. Trash is the leftover waste, 'scattered rubbish, squash, melon husks, and cane pieces...' Children are still scavenging, picking up odds and ends. On a market day like that, vitality is diminished, weakened. Sellers gaze at buyers and vice versa, but it's a futile, entangled gaze anticipating futility. The scent permeating this space is a characteristic aroma symbolizing poverty. It's the scent of cane leaves, melon rinds, damp soil, smoke, grass, the strong odor of buffalo dung... That scent also contributes to the faded, withered scenery, slowly vanishing.
The conflict between darkness and light is quite intense, with light and darkness engaged in a struggle. Light diminishes gradually. Initially, it's the 'western sky red like a burning fire, and the flame-like clouds are about to fade.' After that, the dark silhouette of the bamboo hedge encircling the village takes over, and finally, darkness envelops the district entirely. The only remaining light signal is sister Tí's flower-patterned lamp. Here, light and darkness also carry symbolic meanings; light represents dreams, while darkness signifies poverty and loneliness. The story begins with the gradual dimming of light, and darkness dominates. The last light signifies the commencement of a deep and thick night. The light is gradually shrinking in scope or thinning, like the starlight in the sky or a dim, feeble light filtering through a slightly open door or shining on Tí's bamboo stand. This light symbolizes decay due to its low intensity and shrinking capabilities. The sounds of autumn, scattered, touching, faint, and gradually fading away. The smallest sounds, like the buzzing of mosquitoes, evoke a sense of suspended dominance in space, and time falls silent. These are sounds without echoes, emphasizing the eerie, chilling atmosphere of the district in the evening. All converge, gathering to make the reader clearly see the true scene of the district as another day dwindles away. Thach Lam describes, comments on, in a subtle, profound way, the passage of time in the poor district. The reader seemingly perceives the transition of time resonating through a unique language. The vibrancy of the prose can awaken individuals to feel the district's true scene and Thach Lam's sentiments.
Against this backdrop, life scenes, or more precisely, vignettes of life, of humble individuals with no aspirations, vividly unfold. They converse, seemingly devoid of substance. They move, interact, yet find contentment in the narrow scope of life. Buying half a soap, selling a little more than a bottle of wine in a tiny kiosk... Sister Tí epitomizes the rhythm of the trapped lives of the district's people. During the day, she catches crabs and shrimp, and I visit when she sets up her water-selling stall. Hoping for a few customers from the train station, a few soldiers with their pitiful earnings. The frightening part is knowing there's nothing to sell but still preparing the merchandise. This isn't true living; it's a precarious survival, struggling, conflicting, and competing in poverty. The writer describes in detail how Sister Tí answers Liên's question - 'Sister Tí squats on the ground, arranges the water bowls before answering Liên, revealing the slow, entangled, and stagnant rhythm of this family's life. Phở Siêu seems better off, but the risk is higher because the food he sells is a luxury even Liên wouldn't dare to eat. Uncle Xẩm plays the guitar at night without a single coin clinking. Granny Thi, a slightly mad old woman, is the helpless image of a life of futile struggles for survival. Even in old age, withering away, she accepts her fate. Every night, she digs up three coins to buy a bottle of wine, tilts her head back, drinks a gulp, and customers laugh into the darkness, giving a chilling sense of an impending downfall. This character only appears briefly but casts a haunting shadow, awakening hidden sincerity in the reader.
In the forefront of the bleak, desolate life portrait, subtly stirring the shadows, the two younger siblings are no less silent than the 'tiny grocery store' whose customers are the impoverished, sometimes unable to afford half a bar of soap or only having enough for a small bottle of wine, 'drinking in one go.' Liên empathizes with these struggling souls, but her life is no less wretched, equally restrained. Liên's suffering perhaps transcends the material hardship of others. It's a mental tragedy because those others suffer without realizing it, while Liên truly experiences the dull, confined, and lonely life day after day. The only solace is eagerly waiting for the nightly train, 'it's the final activity of the late night.' The train's light is a brilliant, powerful light, but it flickers as fast as a shooting star, then permanently extinguishes in the night, leaving one bewildered and shocked. It seems 'Two Children' is a story of Liên's nostalgic light sources, also a reminiscence of light. The first time Liên 'recalls' Hanoi is a vague memory. Hanoi is a bright and dazzling place with many lights. The second time, Liên dreams of 'Hanoi in the distance.' The beautiful scene of the past sharply contrasts with the current darkness under the banyan tree, unfolding. Past and present, light and darkness, romance and reality, beautiful dreams and harsh truths, all create a profound movement in Liên's mixed emotions. The train's light is the light of dreams, passing briefly, only to sink into the vast darkness, melancholic and desolate.
All these characters emerge under Thạch Lam's sympathetic gaze, 'containing many sincere and sensitive emotions.' Liên's compassion for the children picking up trash, for Sister Tí, for Uncle Siêu, for crazy Granny Thi is also Thach Lam's emotions. Thạch Lam has embodied himself in the characters, expressing his own sympathetic perception. The train with a fleeting light passing quickly and extinguishing has somewhat altered the atmosphere of the present world. Perhaps it is a yearning for an impoverished, withered, simple life, almost like nothing, not just ordinary compassion. That's why he presents the reality of the district with a broad, generalized meaning of Vietnamese society's stagnation. Placed in the stream of cultural news of that time, we can see Thạch Lam quite clearly reflecting a circumstance, a contemporary psychology that Nam Cao - a talented 'sensor machine' of the same era - had once exclaimed: 'Life is a difficult few months.'
'Two Children' is a short story resembling a lyrical poem in its quatrain structure, tone, and language, akin to poetry. The story's quatrain revolves around the imagery of darkness repeated over thirty times. When depicting the town scene and the lives of its people, the author ingeniously utilizes the motif of darkness. Darkness envelops the landscape and people, described from various moments, perspectives, and different emotional states. Like an obsession, a menace, a monstrous weight on both the scenery and people. The author refers to darkness many times using different images and words. Darkness is the 'dimming evening lament about to fade,' 'black oozing lanterns,' 'evening, then lament,' 'darkness overflowing,' 'steps of the evening,' 'fading day.' The author vividly describes various states of darkness. Darkness arrives with the sound of drums from the high tower, darkness is about to come with clouds like dying pieces of coal, darkness comes to the black bamboo grove, darkness comes with buzzing flies, darkness comes to the small stones on the muddy road, darkness shrouds the streets and district alleys... In summary, darkness is repeated like something grand in action, penetrating, sneaking, closely clinging to every scene, every silently active state of every creature. It is the artistic space of the work and the social space of humanity. Because darkness is when Sister Tí appears 'it's dark, she just set up the stall under the banyan tree,' at night Uncle Phở Siêu appears like a small, golden flame floating in the dark, disappearing and reappearing... Darkness is where Granny Thi brings and takes away 'a gradually diminishing laughter.' Granny Thi's life is unclear, but it is clear she carries a hidden, melancholic heart submerged in darkness. Uncle Xẩm and his wife shrink their lives on a narrow mat in the night. For Liên and her sister, the author meticulously narrates the feelings, thoughts of the two in the dark. Darkness fills Liên's eyes. Liên likes to sit silently, watching in the dark; late at night, Liên sits silently waiting for the train. When the train rushes by, Liên gradually sinks into a quiet sleep in a silent and dark district.
Repetition, whether indirect or direct, of the image of darkness is also the author's way of revealing the work's theme through a sense of compassion and creating an influence, a structure like a lyrical poem.
Describing the sensations of nature is often rare in realistic literary works. If we consider 'Two Children' a realistic work, we will see that Thạch Lam always describes nature when given the opportunity. Nature envelops the story with many rich states. The author also pays attention to depicting the dreamy feeling about the moment of sunset, about the vast, nearby universe with romantic verses 'vaguely melancholy celestial.' The harmonious relationship with nature in the Northern countryside is a familiar and close feeling with national colors, and that's why the main character of the story, Liên, carries a soulful aura.
The poetic quality is also expressed in the gentle, subtle, interesting tone of the language, in the delicate emotions of a soul easily stirred. The story unfolds like a melancholic ballad, deeply purifying our souls, with music permeating through every heartfelt sentence. A simple yet refined voice, full of tenderness. It can be said that 'Two Children' is a complete lyrical poem by Thạch Lam.
